Full disclosure, day lights savings began this weekend past and Sunday around 3pm I was ready for the week to be over already. A busy week again ahead.
Tuesday, I was at the Brain Injury self-advocacy group again. Highlight for the day was when one hapless young man asked me “Are you PREGNANT?”
Yeah, he’s dead now!
Yeah, I then had the pleasure of explaining to him the effects of being this age! I’m referring to being peri-menopausal. I explained to him a side effect of being this age is either you lose weight or you gain weight. So, I actually told him I was not pregnant. I was just fat! I think that question is up there next to asking a woman how old she is. You don’t!
FYI, I’m 46 now and by the end of the month I will be a year older. I’m fine with getting older, I’m just looking at things I should do so I’m another 25 years I don’t look back and have regrets of things I’ve not achieved.
Because Wednesday is meant to be my mid-week foodie post, let’s have some food, shall we? Today’s offering is an Arancini Bolognaise with side salad and medicine!
And here’s a nice sign in Clifton Hill I found yesterday in my travels. Your welcome!
I’m also going to start mentioning TV Shows I’m watching. I’m watching season 15 of Grey’s Bit’s. (Grey’s Anatomy). Season 3 of 13 Reasons Why and my I have to get out of the apartment and go do Person show has been The Kids are alright. A nice flashback to the 70’s! I do watch things way past they are released but it’s because I watch sooooo much TV. Meredith Grey is my Spirit Animal.
I think the punchline to the previous post is that despite eating dinner by 7pm, doing the classic dinner and a show, I was actually home by 11.30pm.
Despite being completely spent and everything hurt from the 4,500 steps I’d managed all past a time I’m normally committed to my couch, I couldn’t go to bed until 2am.
AND I WAS STILL AWAKE AT 4AM.
It takes me days to get over it. I don’t drink, so I really don’t understand the drinking/partying mentality. Where you are hungover the next day, or is this just getting old?
Since my disability and in particular my loss in eyesight, I rarely go out in the evenings. My physical disability zapped my ability to run around like I just didn’t care. My loss of eyesight zapped my ability to see in the dark. My financial restraints zapped the ability to enjoy going out anyway.
But on a rare occasion I get scooped up to go out for dinner by people who get up super early for work. We go somewhere local, cheap and cheerful. Close to me and I’ve usually eaten by 7pm. Oh dear, I’m getting ready for the Nursing Home after all.
I’m often home again by 8pm. No joke. I might go out two or three times a year for dinner and this year I managed to get out for the Comedy Festival. I haven’t been out to the festival for about seven or eight years and it’s an effort to say the least.
I was dressed from early in the day, even though I didn’t need to leave the house (apartment) until around 5pm. I had a kip in my clothes even because I wouldn’t have made it otherwise and I even put on make-up. Effort.
But once committed, that was it.
These days there is a tram stop at my front door, which is awesome and at times I’m normally at home committed to a quiet evening on the couch, I go out and on the tram. As per usual, all things do not always go to plan. When do they ever?
I catch the tram past my favourite Wednesday Café and into the city via Smith Street, Collingwood and on Smith Street, the tram stopped because a car had broken down in front of the tram and an announcement came over the loudspeaker.
“Waffle, waffle, waffle”
Sometimes the messages are a little hard to decipher. A woman stood up behind me and in a rather grumpy tone, demanded “Can someone please translate that for me?” The tram emptied out of about 80% of the passengers, including the grumpy lady.
The tram driver walked down and stood next to me to tell the back part of the tram passengers what the issue was. It was that a car had broken down, people and a tow truck had been called. We could sit and wait (for an undeterminable time) or we could choose to get off and walk if we didn’t have far to go.
I reached out to the driver and gently touched the back of my hand to the back of his wrist (I was going for the non-gropey/non-offensive gesture), he looked down at me. “Can the car be pushed out of the way? Because we just lost all our muscle.” The driver responded “No, because the car has an electrical system.”
WFT! C’mon! FFS!
Another message came over the loudspeaker and the grumpy lady was back. She wanted to know why everyone had gotten off the tram, if we didn’t need to. She felt everyone had been told to get off and why had that been?
I got up and moved through the tram to speak to her. I stopped where she had last been standing, the younger couple sat staring at me a little bewildered. I asked them “Where is she?” They motioned outside, I said “I got this” It was suggested the grumpy one was probably after a fight, so I used my standard line of “It’s OK, I’ve got a stick.” (Hey it’s a walking stick, but it’s still a stick).
The younger woman sat up with keen interest, like there was about to be a rumble and someone was going down. Enter in my head the Cure song “Fight! Fight! Fight!” like the Rocky soundtrack. Can you imagine smartphones going out and it being all over Social Media?
I told the young lady that was not going to be like that. I got off the tram and went over to the grumpy one. I asked her if she was Ok and I offered to explain what the voice over message had meant. The first as I’ve already explained. The second message was more for people who were further away on other trams who had the option of abandoning their trams to catch alternative methods, so as not to get stuck on Smith Street.
She was rolling a cigarette and seemed to be okay with my version of the translation, but she still seemed argumentative about how she felt we had been told to get of the tram. The driver came over and the car driver had reported a tow truck had been called again and would be fifteen to twenty minutes away. The tram driver told us we could get back on the tram to wait.
Grumpy lady was still grumpy and she felt she had been advocating for people like myself. I wish she didn’t. I told her the next tram over wasn’t far away, so I would walk. I spoke to the tram driver again before I departed and he felt the need to tell me the next tram over was quite far and I should just wait. I took it as a challenge.
Sometimes, when the plan goes sideways, I can roll with the punches. It is a lot more physically taxing, but I had somewhere to be, places to go, food to be eaten and did not want my night to be squashed when it had only just begun.
To be fair, I walked half the distance I had intended, messaged my friend to alter where we would meet in the city and I even walked through the public housing block on Brunswick Street. I almost went around it, but I could very easily be in public housing, so with a “Hey, these are my people mentality” I forged on. Came across a black guy (not being racist) he was maybe early 20’s African and I gave him a little smile, said “Excuse me and asked which path would have efficiently take me to Brunswick Street?”
Out of the tram, walked to meet my friend, walked to Degraves Street, had medicine. Mmmm and shared three Tapas meals. Then walked to the Forum. Next venue, built in 1929 and saw Daniel Sloss.
Ok, don’t know him?
The Project
Ted Talk
He’s young, 28, he’s Scottish, he’s interesting, amazing thought provoking. Go See him.
Doing another egg delivery today. If the tray of eggs is in my home until I deliver it, the longer it’s here the more I get creative, my Girl-Wednesday and I collaborating. I deliver and unveil our efforts with the line, “we did these! Well, we didn’t lay the eggs obviously. But we ratified them!”
Need to catch up on some baking at home. Have been doing savoury. And now my freezers are full, I can return to baking sweet things.
Meanwhile, today’s offering the brain grain salad and medicine.
When I was a kid, well teenager, also had a bedroom along the side of our house. My sister had a bedroom with a view of the backyard.
Yes, this is a second child syndrome moment because, it is what it is.
My view was of a grey fence that actually also had racks added so my dad could store his extra timber, metal and god knows what else. Like the double garage wasn’t big enough.
The neighbours loved to work late into the night over the fence in their carport on their cars. So, bright lights and late nights aplenty.
I recall a brief time, my older sister and I slept in a caravan behind our Aunt’s house, mum and dad were on a mattress in their big back room. My parents were building the house I grew up in. I lived in that house until I was nineteen.
In that bedroom that was view-less, having moved out of home to move to Melbourne to be a poor art student. I’ve moved many times. Have I counted? Yes. I’ve got to find my list. Then add a few places to it. But I hate moving and I finally have a reasonable view.
Ok, now I can see other people on their balconies and other apartments. But I have a view.
As per usual, I’ve neglected my blog writing for a little while, as I’ve been busy with all the mundane weekly appointments and carer shifts, I forget to A) Socialize and B) Catch up on my blog writing.
By then, I’m still not caught up on the ‘old’ stuff I want to write about and then I’ve scraped the surface on those things, leaving more unsaid than said.
The Social life stuff leads to needing to write.
This is not the retirement I had in mind. I had to flip over my notebook and start from the back. I’m going to struggle to go back to the train of thought I’ve started at the front, but …..Onwards.
Yesterday, had a nice adventure planned and by 8am the wheels fell off. My fill-in carer had rung in sick and I was asked if I wanted them to be replaced? Just imagine I do like a shower each day, so I said yes please but, my agency outsourced me to another agency, who got lost 3 suburbs away and by the time she found me it was lunchtime.
I was in the mood to hibernate. I also thought I’d make up for doing full “Person” on Saturday, I also did hours of admin sitting at my desk. Here is Mika, her idea of helping me.
That’s right, I went out! I went up and down several times in the lift and ran into people. It’s amazing how many people you see if you keep normal hours. I was even able to help a guy who was attempting to get into the garage entrance with a slab of beer in his arms. I called to him as he was about to put it down and clicked the button for the garage gate to open. He seemed pleased and surprised.
I had been waiting for my sister to pull in to “bump in/bump out” she bought me a vacuum cleaner as mine recently died and she collected some goodies for my dad. Ok, our dad. She was going up to stay with him for a few days before going onto Canberra with our younger sister. We had lunch locally.
I did take photos but they did not work! Again! Reasons why Helen cannot do Insta. I did however make my second last bread and butter pudding Sunday night. I even had some, I normally portion and package it all up to give away. Have delivered some today and while none is going to Sydney to my administrator Noelle. She is getting a box full of goodies. Should arrive Monday?
Another crazy day, not even getting to my favourite cafe in North Fitzroy. Stayed close to my last appointment in Thornbury for lunch instead. Today’s offering a black bean pie, with a little salad and relish and medicine.
There was a drink back in the 80’s and I has become part of Aussie Pop Culture references that crosses all things. The ad was for a drink (beverage) called Claytons.
It refers to it being the drink when you don’t feel like having a drink. A drink without being alcoholic. So, this is a post about a Clayton’s holiday. Get it?
About five years ago, I was with an agency that arranged holidays (group holidays) for their clients. I was able to and included on two holidays, which was really nice as I think it’s been about ten years since I actually had a holiday and even then, that was to Tasmania for two-three nights.
So, the group holidays work out to be only a half day drive from Melbourne and only away over night or two. The other client’s range in age from five (one client’s daughter) to sixty-five (maybe). There were two mini buses with wheelchair lifts on the back (two wheelchairs in the back of each) and usually a car.
I usually bags the front seat of the mini bus (I will do a polishing motion on my backside and one of the carers will effortlessly lift me and deposit me in my seat). Yeah, I do that sexual harassment for the ladies. But I won’t allow a male carer to man-handle the goods. (I’m not light these days, but one lady just effortlessly lifted me making me feel so light.)
Being on a little get away with a bunch of strangers and three or four carers means you have a polite but temporary family type experience.
I always pitch in to help prep a salad or something in the evening as we usually stay somewhere we have a shared meal where ever we stay on the first night, as most meals are eaten out.
The first holiday I went to we stopped on the way back to Melbourne at an outer Melbourne suburb for a lunch and a little adventure.
A friend lived there, so I suggested they join me, so I could catch up with them. Said friend had recently been diagnosed with something quite nasty. They are still in that honeymoon stage of diagnosis where they have had the sugar-coated version of their diagnosis. Goes something like this “OH, you only have 3 lesions…”
Note, privacy being maintained here, yeah. This medical condition is such that when people hear I have a brain injury, I tell them, “Hey! It’s okay, this is my bottom line right now. At least I don’t have XYZ.” Because XYZ is degenerative. It gets worse. It gets shitty. I just gets’ worse.
So, this friend joined my little group of holiday buddies and I briefly introduced them to the group. I’m going to say, I’m terrible with names and I’ve been around this group of people with disabilities now a few years, so in a little desensitized re: medical conditions.
My introduction went like this;
“Brain Injury, MS, Stroke, Stroke, Oxygen deprived at birth (Brain Injury) etc, etc”. And I finished with referring to one particular person in a wheelchair (of which there were five) but the last person I pointed to had the XYZ my non-holiday friend has. “That will be you one day” and they paled considerably.
Really struggling to keep on top of things at the moment. Failing at so many things and feeling sad about it. Allow me to list but a few………
Failing at my emails…..
Failing at my followers emails……..sorry. Very, very sorry. Still!
Failing at getting to bed at a more reasonable time.
So, failing at sleep clinic!
Failing at being a good friend, so I’m told ……….
Failing at getting my shit done so I can maintain some semblance of a pain-free life.
Or at least making it look like I’m not failing at life.
Failing at keeping anxiety and depression at bay.
Failing at not swearing at my GP appointments.
Said Fuck 7 times yesterday! I asked.
I thought I had been holding back!
Felt like such a zombie yesterday I had a double-shot latte with lunch. I had a brain grain salad. It is very good.
Today’s lunch, a Moroccan chicken salad and instead of my standard medicine today…. I’m having a London Fog!
And now for the Little Red Truck, always brings a smile to my face…
On the upside, it’s only mid-September and I’ve achieved my New Year’s resolution. I finished that bottle of Baileys I had been storing in my fridge for the last two Christmas’s. Got a taste for Baileys now. Also had a delivery from my Egg-Dealer! It always makes me Egg-cited! Get it?
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 